The woman in the grocery store in Redcross village says that Cullen's Pub doesn't open until around eight o'clock. Or sometimes nine o'clock. Or it could even be ten. I'd really have to come back and see. John Cullen has been running it on his own since his brother died and he also has the farm to look after. So there are evenings when he mightn't open at all.
The Hugh Lane Gallery in Dublin has invited five international artists to respond to the gallery's space, in their own time. Billy Leahy reports
Cosmopolitan, multi-cultural, colourful in a word a 'Europiccola' Aoife Carrigy is lured to Trieste by the magic of James Joyce
If you consider yourself a Premier League Organic Foodie then you will have already pencilled in next Friday, 22 April into your recycled Green Party diary. You won't of course have used a charcoal pencil with which to mark the world wide "Earth Dinner" promoted by the American Organic Consumers' Association – that would inadvertently contribute to further removal of sections of the rainforest.
Billy Leahy tries to sidestep the clichés as he makes his tentative journey into the West at The Royal Hibernian Academy's latest exhibition
At fifty-five, Don Baker has no plans to stop playing Blues. Because it's hip, he tells Eoin Butler
Four centuries of Irish gold and silver craftmanship go on display this month in Cork. Brian O'Connell talks to silversmith Chris Carroll who has worked on everything from gold teeth to a solid gold palate
Rivalry with Dublin and a carefree attitude are generally associated with Cork bands. But Fred have also managed to release one of the best albums this year says Eoin Butler
U2 have enjoyed a commercial rejuvenation and attitudes towards them have softened in snootier corners of the music scene, writes Eoin Butler
We've moved back into town. Hurray. I've just spent six months in the suburbs while our house was being done up and I now realise I am truly a townie. I missed the dirt and the smog and the noise. I missed my bicycle, Wagamama, expensive lattes, queuing, and the anonymity (because Dublin is so huge). I missed St. Pat's bells, the smell of the hops, feeding the ducks (something I keep meaning to do), brunch in Odessa, coffee in Bewleys (woops). I missed an auld pint in an auld pub. I missed the rudeness, the smackheads and having to chain my car up at night. And I missed the choice.